


to make a touch less awful what forever otherwise will hurt

by chroniclackofselfpreservation



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touch-Starved, and how to express said love, and i lowkey like him better, basically i pick and choose what i want from the movie/book, howl deals with having a heart, howl learns how to be loved, in case you don't know michael is markl but from the book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chroniclackofselfpreservation/pseuds/chroniclackofselfpreservation
Summary: Four times Sophie comforted Howl, and one time Howl realized his mistake.(Title from "spoon" by Ross Gay)
Relationships: Sophie Hatter & Howl Pendragon
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

_Isolation is a terrible curse. More so for a boy who believes he is a monster_

Howl rummaged through his cluttered room, trying to find the recipe for a potion he’d scrawled down a few days ago for a client. They’d be coming by to pick it up tomorrow, and he vaguely remembered that the concoction had to sit for several hours. If he didn’t start it soon, it wouldn’t be ready in time. Sophie was a master at finding lost things, but Howl wasn’t keen on suffering through a lecture on the benefits of cleanliness and organization. 

The potion was volatile, so Howl certainly wouldn’t have left it out in the open. He’d likely thought himself clever by hiding it somewhere no one would find it. Including himself, it seemed. Tearing open drawers, he dug around the trinkets and charms, the tinctures and cinch bags of dried herbs, and found nothing. Grumbling to himself, he squatted down and ran a hand beneath the underside of the drawers. 

His fingers brushed paper, and he stopped. _What a curious place for me to hide it,_ he mused, prying the paper free from the tape securing it to the bottom of the drawer. _I don’t remember putting the recipe—_

Howl’s mind froze when he saw the envelope in his hand. The edges of the parcel were soft and crinkled, the letter within so brief it added no thickness to the envelope. Howl didn’t need to read it. He’d memorized it—his uncle’s slanted letters seared into his mind. Somehow, until this moment, he’d forgotten. Sophie’s new spot in his mind had been big enough to eclipse all those years alone in that cottage with nothing but this letter as an explanation. He fell back to a seat, trembling fingers pulling the square of paper out.

 _You are too dangerous to continue as my pupil. You have endangered my family for the last time, Howl. If it were not for the promise I made to my sister before she died, I would have turned you in to the King for practicing magic without a heart. Do not_ _try to_ _leave. My protection does not extend past this meadow._

Howl’s chest ached, like the Witch of the Wastes was squeezing his heart to stillness again. He hadn’t _liked_ thinking about it when Calcifer had his heart, but it certainly hadn’t hurt this much. He’d already given his heart away when he first read the letter. Back then, the hurt had felt far away. Muted. The lack of real pain had fooled him into thinking he’d gotten over it. Now, it was as if he’d opened flood gates in his mind. 

Howl clenched his teeth and pressed his forehead into his knees. _Why is this happening?_ he thought helplessly. _It hurts so much. I can’t breathe._ He grabbed at his chest, as if he could tear his heart out again. Maybe he could convince Calcifer to take it back. He couldn’t do this. 

There was a knock at his bedroom door. “Howl?” Sophie called, opening the door. “Michael and I are heading to Porthaven for… oh dear,” she said, her words dying in her throat. Howl tried to say something, assure her he was fine, but all that came out was a hiccupping sob. 

“Wait a minute for me, Michael,” she called down the hall, then closed the door behind her with a soft click. Sophie rounded the bed, squatting down in front of him. “What’s wrong, Howl? Can you tell me what happened?”

“I—I can’t,” he panted, clutching his chest. The pain was getting worse as he stuffed away the urge to breakdown. 

_You are too dangerous…_

Sophie laid a hand on the fist he had clutching the letter. “Can I see it?” she asked gently, rubbing circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. Eventually, he relaxed his fingers enough for her to remove it. 

She was silent as she read it, keeping her hold on his hand. Howl didn’t dare grip her hand back for fear she’d pull away. He couldn’t survive her leaving too. 

_You have endangered my family…_

“Who is this from, Howl?” Sophie asked, hints of anger in her voice.

“My uncle,” he croaked. 

“Your uncle?” she echoed, her thumb stilling. “The one that gave you the cottage? You said it was your private study…” she trailed off, overcome with realization. Howl stiffened. 

_That was my secret hideaway. I spent a lot of time here by myself when I was young._

_You were alone?_ she’d asked so innocently. 

_My uncle, who was a wizard, gave me this place as a private study._ Howl had said it so easily, as if it were nothing. An advantage of being a heartless monster, he supposed. 

“Why is this happening?” he asked. “It happened so long ago.”

Sophie sighed, laying the letter on the floor and sitting down next to him. “You only just got your heart back, Howl. There’s a lot it has to sort through, I’d imagine.”

He closed fists in his hair, tugging until his eyes pricked with tears. “But why does it _hurt_ so much?” he whimpered. “I feel like I’m dying.”

“Oh, Howl,” Sophie murmured, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him against her side. “You’re hurting because someone hurt you. It’s going to be okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving. Okay?” 

At last, Howl gave in. He wrapped both arms around Sophie’s waist and wept into her shoulder. He gathered his fists in her dress, as if she’d slip away from him if he didn’t hold on as tightly as possible. Sophie hummed a tune he didn’t recognize and ran her delicate fingers through his hair, rocking them both gently. 

It was a long while before Howl could put himself back together again. Long enough that Sophie had to shift to keep her legs from falling asleep. They didn’t end up getting to go to Porthaven, but Sophie assured him it could wait until tomorrow. She guided him downstairs where the three of them enjoyed mugs of tea while Sophie read to them. Michael didn’t bring up the redness of Howl’s eyes.

In fact, he didn’t seem surprised at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll never watch that scene in the field of flowers the same again


	2. Chapter 2

_Losing his heart did more than bind Howl’s life to Calcifer’s. It turned his very nature against him._

_His magic swallowed him up, soul and mind, without a heart to balance it out._

_Howl’s body was on fire, the blood of wizards turned to beasts for the sake of war dribbling down his jaw. He tore at the warship frantically, ignoring the sharp-toothed creatures tearing at his wings, biting his wrists, shoulders, and neck, the insectoid buzz of their wings filling his ears. The air was a toxic soup of exhaust and smoke from burning villages._

_Howl screamed, a grating, inhuman sound, as the airship crashed to the ground, exploding. The force of it flung him through a crumbling building, leaving a trail of singed, bloody feathers in his wake. He tumbled to a stop in a damp alley. Howl could already hear Sulliman’s creatures scrabbling after him through the wreckage. He forced himself up onto his splayed, avian feet, claws clicking on the grimy bricks._

_Swaying, he fell against the wall of the alley, panting around the blood filling his fanged mouth. A squeak of terror drew his attention to the back of the dark passageway. A soot-covered child peeked around a dumpster at him, eyes wide. Howl didn’t react. He just stared at the kid. All he felt was a faint twinge in that hollow cavity where his heart had once been. That, and pain. So much pain._

_The creatures broke through the rubble and flooded the alleyway. The child screamed. Most latched onto Howl, attacking him relentlessly—but a handful stalked toward the child. Howl couldn’t bring himself to care._

_With a growl, he took to the skies again, ignoring the pain burning through him at the motion. Flapping amid a swarm of biting demons._

_The child’s last scream cut off._

_Howl didn’t look back._

Howl woke with a strangled cry, damp with cold sweat and face tacky with tears. Panicking, he shoved his sleeves up to his shoulders and ran a hand along his skin, checking for feathers. He felt his back, his neck, his face. They weren’t there, and yet he _felt them._ Everywhere, like crawling ants. 

“Howl? What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, groggy with sleep. He was out of bed and down the hall before she could so much as reach out and grab him. It lay dormant inside him, his magic. He could feel it still. Ever since he’d gotten his heart back, he balked at the notion of using more than the bare minimum of his power. Howl delegated most of the magical orders to Michael, having the fortunate excuse of continuing his apprenticeship to mask his unwillingness to partake. For so long, he’d had to hold back for fear of losing himself completely. His magic had been a thing to be feared. 

It still was. 

Michael sat before Calcifer, an open spell book in his lap, his head hanging back over the edge of the chair, mouth agape. He snorted awake at the sound of Howl flying down the stairs.

“What? I’m up,” he mumbled, blinking. 

“Howl, _wait!”_ Sophie cried from the top of the stairs, her feet shoved shoddily into her boots. She was still in her nightgown. “Let me help you!” 

Howl didn’t stop, swiping his pink and blue checkered jacket from the table and throwing it around his shoulders, clutching it around himself like a security blanket. He turned the dial above the doorknob without looking and disappeared through the door.

* * *

“Howl!” Sophie shouted in vain as the door swung shut, rushing to follow. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Michael warned, sitting up and closing his book. He’d been trying to finish the reading Howl had tasked him with, which had been slightly ridiculous considering the wizard could barely sit still long enough to read an entire page himself. 

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked incredulously, pausing a moment to properly tie her shoes.

Michael shrugged. “He gets like that sometimes. Remember, I told you he leaves for days at a time.” He swallowed, looking away. “He usually comes back just fine.”

“Usually?” Her feet now soundly inside her boots, Sophie grabbed her coat and pulled it on. “I’m not leaving him to deal with his heart on his own,” she said firmly and flung the door open, disappearing into the night. 

Michael stared at the closed door in silence. That same suffocating, hopeless longing—that had nearly consumed him before Sophie’s arrival—began to creep up in him again. 

“They’ll be back,” Calcifer mumbled, yawning. 

“Yeah,” Michael muttered, reopening his book and forcing himself to continue reading.

* * *

Sophie scoured all of Market Chipping for the better part of an hour. Her hometown was still in the process of rebuilding after the bombing a month ago, though the rubble had all been cleared. Black scars still marred the streets and three houses in five were missing walls, windows, or roofs. 

At last, she found Howl kneeling in the mouth of an alley, jacket hanging off one shoulder.

“Howl, please talk to me,” Sophie said, out of breath. “I want to help you.” She crouched at his side, brushing his cheek with her knuckles. They came back wet. 

“I did such horrible things,” Howl said, voice raw as if he’d been shouting. “I left a child to die, Sophie.” He pointed to the back of the alley. “Right there.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Sophie asked softly, wrapping her arms around him. 

Howl was silent for a long moment, breathing slow. “I suppose there isn’t anything I can do.” He relaxed a bit, slumping. “Is it terrible that I’m… relieved?” 

“No, Howl,” Sophie murmured. “It isn’t.” 

Eventually, he stood, taking Sophie’s hand. They walked down the empty street in silence. Howl raised a hand a began healing the broken houses. Walls re-plastered themselves, roofs shingling themselves back together in the blink of an eye. 

They walked arm in arm, back to the castle, leaving a trail of healed wounds and fading scars in their wake.


	3. Chapter 3

_There comes a point when someone becomes so hungry they feel nauseous—_

_repulsed by the very thing that would save them._

  
Howl meandered across the rolling fields of grass, a pouch of magic tied at his waist, dripping growing spells into the ground as he passed. Wildflowers bloomed in his wake, filling the air with their heady fragrance. After finding the letter from his uncle, Sophie had suggested he get rid of the castle door connected to the meadow for good. 

He couldn’t do it. 

Sure, he’d been alone for several years, thinking he was too dangerous to be around actual people, but it had had its bright moments—and he’d had Calcifer, though the demon had taken a while to come around. Fire demons weren’t exactly known for being affectionate or comforting, but it had given him someone to talk to at least. 

Being here felt familiar. Not in a good way, but it was… easy. He knew this feeling. Had grown used to it. He could feel his heart beating away in his chest—a sensation he was still growing used to. Letting out a heavy sigh, Howl untied the pouch and pitched it as far away from himself as he could, his magic aiding his aim. The charm flew two hills over, flowers slowly spreading in a circle as soon as it landed. Content to wait for the flowers to reach him, Howl lowered to a seat in the grass, folding his arms over his knees. 

In the distance, the cottage’s water wheel churned, sunlight glinting off the stream. Just beyond it sat the small shed where the portal was. He squinted, noticing the door opening and a figure stepping out. 

It was Sophie. 

She waved and began making her way over. Howl watched absently. The portal used to lead into his uncle’s courtyard, before the old wizard had severed the connection. Howl remembered the day he’d flung the door open, announcing his fashionably late arrival for family dinner only to find the shed empty, a single envelope on the ground. There had also been directions to an underground cellar filled with shelves and shelves of canned preserves, hard cheese, and dried jerky. It had lasted him long enough to learn how to conjure his own food. 

“Goodness,” Sophie sighed, resting her hands on her hips and catching her breath after climbing the hill. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Thinking,” he muttered, not meeting her gaze. 

She sat next to him in the grass, leaning back on her arms. “It’s a beautiful day out, and the flowers look wonderful!” Sophie grabbed his hand, squeezing. Howl froze, glancing down at it. His heart thumped again and again. It tingled where she touched him, the sensation buzzing up his arm. This hadn’t happened back when Calcifer had his heart. He hadn’t felt anything when someone touched him. Now, it was like he was free falling, his stomach clenching. 

“Howl?” Sophie asked softly, reaching out and brushing his hair out of his face. Her fingers skimmed over his forehead and it was too much. He thought he’d vibrate right out of his own skin. Howl shot to his feet, stumbling a bit on the slanted ground. 

“Sorry,” he said, ears flushing red and crossed his arms across his chest. “It isn’t—you’re not…”

Sophie stood as well, taking a step back. “No, I’m sorry, Howl. You obviously came out here to be alone, and I shouldn’t have presumed—”

“No!” Howl blurted, reaching out for her but stopping himself. “Please don’t leave,” he pleaded breathlessly. 

“But you looked so uncomfortable just now,” Sophie said suspiciously. “I won’t be offended if you want to be on your own out here, Howl. I promise.”

“N—no, it’s not that,” he stammered. He couldn’t concentrate with his blasted heart pounding through his chest. How did anyone get anything done with one of these? Before, he hadn’t had such complicated emotions in the first place, let alone had to explain them. “I’m—I can’t,” he said, motioning from his heart to his head.

“Ah,” Sophie said softly, realizing the problem. She patted the grass in front of her. “Come sit, and we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

Howl sat down, tearing at the grass. “The touching,” he started, brow furrowing. “I’m not… good at it anymore.”

Sophie took a breath. “Okay. Good. Explain that more. What did it feel like?”

Howl shifted back and forth on his feet. “You held my hand and—and it’s like my mind went blank. I couldn’t _think,_ and it was just buzzing, and then you touched my face and it was too much,” he explained lamely. This wasn’t coming out in any sort of coherent manner, but it wasn’t as if he understood it much better. 

Sophie gave a patient smile. “You were feeling overwhelmed? Does that sound right?”

Howl nodded. The flowers were over the first hill, blooms edging ever closer across the rolling plains. “It just doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Because I _want_ to hold your hand, Sophie!” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I want to hug you and walk arm in arm with you, but my stupid heart is broken and can’t even—”

“Hey,” Sophie cut him off, making an aborted movement with her arm, as if she were going to lay a hand on his shoulder but had stopped herself. “Your heart isn’t broken. Howl. Most people learn to process their emotions as children, but you never got that chance until right now. This is to be expected. In fact,” she said, glancing back at the portal, “before we finished that horrible war, Michael struggled with a similar issue.”

Howl looked up at her. “What?”

“I won’t go into detail,” she said, staring off into the sky, “since it isn’t really my place to tell you, but I hope you know that you aren’t as alone as you feel.”

“Right,” he said, looking down at the pile of torn grass at his feet. Michael had been dealing with something? How come he hadn’t noticed? How long had it been going on? He supposed it was for the best that Sophie had arrived and helped him. Howl wasn’t sure what sort of guidance he could have offered without a heart—or with one, for that matter.

“I’ll keep from touching you,” Sophie said, returning to the subject at hand. She looked at him and smiled. “Until you initiate. Okay? And you can always tell me when it gets to be too much.”

Howl relaxed a touch, rising to his feet once more. He held his hand out toward Sophie, pinkie finger extended. She laughed and hooked hers through his.

“Come,” Sophie said, standing at his side, overlooking the cottage. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter coming very soon! watch out for that notification! kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

_For one who has become resigned to their own pain,_

_it is near impossible to keep it from bleeding into those closest to them._

It had been a long day. Flooded with orders for potions, spells, and charms. Howl and Michael had been working nonstop since late last night to get it all done in time. Sophie had been managing the shop front—previously her family’s hat shop, now turned into the face of their business.

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” Howl had asked when she’d offered to revamp the shop.

“Of course,” she said. “Hat making’s a fun hobby, but I don’t need the whole store for that. Besides, I’m getting better at this magic-business. It’ll make it official.”

Though Sophie _did_ help make many of the magical items for customers, she was the only one organized enough to do the accounting and cashiering. Before she’d arrived, Howl had grown accustomed to shoving payments or credit slips in drawers, never to be seen again.

“Have a nice day!” Sophie called as the final customer stepped out of the shop at the end of the night, the bell tinkling for the last time. She locked the door and slumped against the wall, letting out a weary sigh.

“What a day,” she said to herself, enjoying the silence for a moment. “I better go check on the boys—make sure they haven’t burned the castle down.”

She crossed to the back of the shop and stepped out into the small courtyard separating the building from the castle itself. The night air was pleasantly cool, the fresh, dewy scent of the Wastes rolling in on the breeze, washing away the smoky city air. Sophie took a deep breath, preparing herself for the unholy mess that likely awaited her inside.

Opening the door, she climbed the entryway stairs and withheld a laugh. Michael sat on the ground amid a sea of open spell books, his quill and inkwell resting atop a particularly precarious stack. Howl flitted around the room like a hummingbird, opening cupboards, drawers, and cabinets, the dining table a mess that only the wizard himself could decipher. His fingers were stained black almost to the knuckles, as if from charcoal or soot. Howl’s hair—tonight a deep crimson red—was tied back in a bun, the hair just long enough to stay together, though the ends stuck out at odd angles. He was even wearing the thin, round, wireframed glasses that Sophie had only ever seen him wear when he was sick, or during those worryingly frequent instances where he couldn’t stomach using his magic—even to help him see.

“I think my brain’s going to start leaking out my ears if we keep this up much longer,” Michael groaned, holding up a slip of paper between his index and middle finger.

“Exactly!” Calcifer complained from beneath a bubbling pot. “How am I supposed to keep the castle together with all this extra work?”

“The shop’s closed,” Sophie said, feeding Calcifer another log. “You two can stop now.”

“Nonsense,” Howl said, plucking the spell from Michael’s fingers and dropping it into the steaming pot. With a flourish, the stain on his fingers disappeared. “There are tomorrow’s orders to get ahead on.”

“Of course,” Michael yawned, resting his head on a stack of books. “You know, sometimes I almost miss the old Howl. He was never this strict.”

Howl swallowed stiffly, gave the pot a stir, then rushed off to the other side of the room, busying himself once again.

“Michael,” Sophie scolded gently. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“It’s true,” he muttered, shrugging. “We’re busier now, cause people like Howl’s magic better. Before, I made all the orders myself.”

“Pardon me, Michael,” Howl snapped. “I was only out fighting a war every night.”

The apprentice sat up, glaring at his mentor’s back. “It would have ended sooner if you’d just manned up and faced Sulliman from the beginning.”

Howl slammed a drawer shut and Sophie jumped. “Great. You caught me,” he said, shoulders hunched as he angrily gathered and mixed ingredients. “Are you happy, now?”

“Stop it, both of you,” Sophie said, balling her fists in her skirt. 

“Come on, guys. You’re just tired,” Calcifer chipped in. “Why don’t we call it a night? Howl? I’ll ready your bath, and—”

“No!” Michael shouted, standing. Howl flinched, shoulders hiking up toward his ears, back still to the two of them. “No, I spent _years_ in here _alone_ long before that war started because you just had to go flirting with every girl who winked at you. Learning magic? Making orders? It was all I had, and now—now you think you can just come back and take over everything like it’s some happy family business?” he ranted, his voice breaking. “ _I’m_ the reason you even _have_ customers!”

“Wrong,” Howl growled, whirling and pointing a finger in Michael’s face. “Without me, you’d still be that sniveling orphan begging at my doorstep. I taught you that magic you’re so proud of.”

Sophie stepped between them, but neither of them even looked at her. “Howl, stop—”

“You didn’t teach me a thing,” Michael spat, picking up a book and shaking it. “You handed a child a book and told him to figure it out for himself! The only time you paid me any attention was if I was about to blow the castle up!”

“You learned, didn’t you?!”

“I was a _child!_ I didn’t need to be taught, I needed someone to care about more than the space I took up in their spare bedroom! To _look at me_ more than once a week!”

 _“You_ came to _me!”_ Howl bellowed back, the castle shuddering around them. Sophie had to grab the chair to keep her balance. His chest heaved. “I didn’t _ask_ to raise a child! I didn’t _want_ a war to decimate half the world, I—I—” he panted, gesturing in wordless frustration. 

Michael’s expression turned glacial. “If you didn’t even want me, then why’d you let me stay? Out of the goodness of your _heart?”_ he sneered. 

Howl’s crimson hair wilted to bluish-black, his nostrils flaring. Shadows bucked and danced along the walls, the air dropping several degrees. Sophie watched helplessly. She’d fought with Lettie before, but never this badly. The two looked like they were about to tear each other’s throats out. 

“Leave,” Howl snarled, “if you hate it here so much.”

“Gladly,” Michael said. He stormed across the room. 

“No, Michael, please wait,” Sophie pleaded, but he’d already grabbed his cloak from where it hung on the banister, wrenched the dial to the Porthaven entrance, and flung the door open, disappearing into the night.

* * *

Howl’s ears were ringing. He was so _angry._ He couldn’t think straight, and it took everything in him not to start smashing things. _It’s that infuriating heartbeat,_ he thought venomously. _I can’t stand it._ The shadows in the room continued to rise—twisted, snarling faces on the walls. He thought he heard Sophie speaking, but it was muffled. Distorted, as if underwater. He sat on the bench at the table, holding his head in his hands. His breath hissed through gritted teeth. 

Magic tingled through him, arcing between fingertips, and Howl scratched his neck. His arms. The feathers. He could _feel them._

Sophie hadn’t tried to touch him, at least. That was good. He wasn’t sure how he’d react, but was fairly certain it wouldn’t be good. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her dash to the icebox in the corner, enchanted to stay cold no matter the heat. Sharp, clarifying pain lanced up Howl’s neck as his nails broke skin in his efforts to ensure he wasn’t transforming. Regardless, he still felt the feathers all over. He was about to start tearing at his collar when Sophie dropped a block of ice the size of a small loaf of bread into his lap. 

The sheer surprise was enough for him to look up at her in confusion. 

“Hold this,” she instructed, clearly holding back her own panic. “Please, Howl. It’ll help. I promise.”

He could barely hear her over the roar of blood in his hears, but he surmised what she meant well enough. Howl pressed his hands onto either side of the frozen block, the cold shocking his system. It was so cold it almost burned, but Howl didn’t let go. He bowed over it, pressing his forehead to the ice and forcing himself to take deep, albeit shaky, breaths. 

Sophie pressed a fist to her mouth, staring at the front door silently. 

“He hates me,” Howl croaked, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his cheek against the ice. 

“He doesn’t hate you, Howl,” Sophie said, looking down at the ring of books Michael had only just been sitting within. “He thinks _you_ hate him.” 

Howl looked up. “What?”

Sophie finally met his gaze, her eyes glistening. “Weren’t you listening to a thing he said? Michael’s been vying for your attention for _years_ , Howl. That’s all he wants. Just for you to be proud of him.”

Howl opened and closed his mouth. “I… I _am_ proud of him. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s an amazing wizard.”

Sophie let out a wet laugh, shaking her head. “And have you ever thought to tell him any of that?”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Howl said, genuinely confused. “I figured he knew.I knew I was a powerful wizard without anyone having to tell me _.”_

Sophie stared at him, bewildered, before sinking to a seat on the wooden chair and running her hands down her face. “You’re being serious,” she groaned. 

His face still tacky, but steadily calming down, Howl set the ice on the floor. A wet rectangle darkened his pants where it had sat. 

“When I first arrived here,” Sophie started, more serious that he’d ever seen her, “Michael was so touch-starved he burst into tears the first time I touched his cheek. That poor boy… it’s taken _weeks_ for me just to be able to go to the market alone, without him having a panic attack thinking I’m leaving forever.”

A seemingly bottomless pit opened in Howl’s chest, the blood draining from his face. “Oh no,” he breathed, his chest beginning to rattle with frantic breath again. “Oh no, no, no, I became _my uncle.”_

No, something worse. Howl had had the luxury of a letter explaining why he was alone. Michael had lived in the same house, ignored without apparent reason. 

Sophie pointed at the ice block on the ground. “Pick that back up, Howl. I need you coherent for this conversation.”

He snatched the ice up again, cradling it against his chest. 

“Now, don’t go undoing all the hard work I’ve put into convincing you you’re not a monster,” Sophie chided, crossing her legs and feeding the silently observing Calcifer another log. 

“You can’t be serious,” Howl said. “I… I _traumatized_ him.”

“Yes, you did, and after we’re done here, you’ll be having a long conversation with Michael about it,” Sophie said, “but it was done out of ignorance, rather than malice.”

“That doesn’t change what happened.”

Sophie nodded. “You’re right, but it _does_ say something about who you are, Howl. You were operating under the only set of rules you’d ever known. It would have been impossible to expect you to be a perfect guardian after being raised the way you were. That doesn’t make it right, but it also doesn’t make you a monster.”

That cowardly side of him, still freshly stuffed to the back of his mind, began to peek out. He couldn’t face Michael. Not after all he’d done. Better to hide under the covers and let the world resolve itself. So what if Michael hated him? In the end, it seemed everyone did eventually. 

Howl pressed his mouth to the ice, squeezing his eyes shut. _No. I won’t run from this,_ he resolved, despite the terror it instilled in him. His whole life, he’d been running away from responsibility. He had his heart back, now. He couldn’t claim indifference because he wasn’t. Howl cared about Michael—far more than he’d expressed. 

“Wait until you’ve calmed down,” Sophie advised, standing and making her way upstairs, “then go find Michael. I’ll be waiting for you both when you return.”

Howl nodded as she disappeared down the hall. 

The ice was melting in his grasp. Howl had to get moving before Michael was gone for good. 


End file.
